


Help to Make the Season Bright

by cheesethesecond



Category: Kamen Rider Decade, Samurai Sentai Shinkenger
Genre: Christmas, Found Family, M/M, Mistletoe, Multi, Other, maybe the real treasure was the friends we made along the way
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-14
Updated: 2019-12-14
Packaged: 2021-02-26 20:41:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21795013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cheesethesecond/pseuds/cheesethesecond
Summary: After the year Daiki's had – a year spent chasing a photo studio through the worlds, finding and leaving Junichi, fighting a war, losing far more treasure than he gained – he thinks he’s earned some peace and quiet.Of course Tsukasa shows up to ruin everything.
Relationships: Hikari Natsumi/Kadoya Tsukasa/Kaitou Daiki/Onodera Yuusuke, Kadoya Tsukasa/Kaitou Daiki, Kadoya Tsukasa/Shiba Takeru
Comments: 8
Kudos: 24
Collections: Another Toku Holiday Special (2019)





	Help to Make the Season Bright

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bomper](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bomper/gifts).



> For bomper, who wanted something with the Decade OT4 being caring with each other, and also something with the Shinkengers! I hope you enjoy friend, and Happy Holidays!

When Daiki arrives in his fifth world in three days, Tsukasa is there waiting for him.

He’s following a lead on some shiny jewel or bauble – ‘tis the season, after all – doing reconnaissance work on the rooftop of a building opposite his target: an office worker who will lead him to a museum curator who will lead him to the treasure. Or so he assumes. Right now, he’s simply savoring the stillness, the bite of the wind on his ears and nose, the twinkle of lights on the street below. A quiet winter is the best kind of winter, when it’s crisp and cold and he’s far above it all. After the year he’s had – a year spent chasing a photo studio through the worlds, finding and leaving Junichi, fighting a war, losing far more treasure than he gained – he thinks he’s earned it.

Of course, that’s when Tsukasa shows up to ruin everything.

“If you’re here to make friends, you’re wasting your time,” Daiki says when he senses Tsukasa behind him. It’s important to stay a step ahead of Tsukasa; as much as Daiki hates to admit it, when he loses the upper hand, it’s a hard fight to win it back.

Tsukasa _tsks_ and saunters up on Daiki’s right, leaning against the rail and looking down over the city. “And here I thought we were getting along so well.”

“We get along just fine when you’re not around.”

Tsukasa laughs.

“But this is a world without riders, Tsukasa. No one here for you to _save_.”

“Someone’s in a mood,” Tsukasa says with a pout.

“I’m very busy, so if you’d kindly leave me alone.”

“Got your eye on something, Kaitou?”

“Perhaps.” Daiki glances back at the building. A light in the window illuminates a man hunched over his desk. In that desk is a document. The man will take that document to a woman, who will reveal the location of his prize. It’s a simple job. All he needs to do is focus.

Easier said than done, with the Destroyer of Worlds breathing down his neck.

“What if I gave you a better offer?” Tsukasa asks.

“Tsukasa,” Daiki scoffs. “You don’t even know what I’m after.”

“I know it’s preferable to chasing a salaryman around in the cold.”

“I like the cold.”

“But you hate spending the holidays alone.”

Daiki glares at him. “I never said that.”

Tsukasa simply shrugs.

Daiki turns away and tips his head back, sucks in a chilly breath of air through his nose. He hates this. He hates how Tsukasa remembers nothing Daiki wishes he would, and sees everything Daiki tries to hide. He could deny it, if he wanted – lying comes as easily as breathing now, such a far cry from the days of Fourteen – but he thinks back on a handful of holidays spent in pursuit of a treasure, only to see it pass, wrapped and ribboned, between two pairs of hands in a warm house while he watched from the outside and he just…doesn’t want to. Not this year.

“Where are your little friends?” Daiki asks, one last attempt at chasing Tsukasa away. “Maybe you should spend time with people who actually want to see you.”

“We’ll pick them up next,” Tsukasa says. “You first, though.”

And Daiki’s caught, like a fish on a hook. “Make this worth my while.”

Tsukasa smirks. “Don’t I always?”

*

As soon as they step through the gates of the Shiba manor, Daiki knows he’s made a mistake.

The look on Shiba Takeru’s face when he sees Tsukasa sends Daiki’s heart plummeting into his stomach. Judging by the clench of Takeru’s jaw and the sly twist to Tsukasa’s lips, the spark apparent between them when they first met in the World of Shinkenger has reignited, only with less antagonism and more anticipation. More opportunity.

Daiki laughs, because screaming would cause a scene.

“Merry Christmas to the 18th head of the Shiba clan and his retainers,” Tsukasa says with a flourish. The rest of the Shinkengers start to gather around them, their reactions ranging from delight (Chiaki, Genta, Kotoha) to suspicion (Mako) to almost cartoonish rage (Ryunosuke).

Takeru rubs at the back of his neck and smiles, charming and sheepish. “19th head of the Shiba clan, actually.”

“We weren’t expecting visitors,” Ryunosuke snips at Tsukasa.

“We’re sorry for intruding,” Natsumi says, jabbing her elbow into Tsukasa’s side. “Tsukasa didn’t tell us where we were going.”

“You’re not intruding!” Kotoha insists, ignoring the murderous look Ryunosuke shoots her. “We’re happy to see you!”

“We are,” Mako says. She looks at Daiki like she’s attempting to puzzle him out and keep him from detonating all at once. “As long as nothing goes missing when you leave.”

Daiki winks. She rolls her eyes.

“It’s so good to see you all again,” Yusuke says, unable to contain his excitement any longer. He throws himself at Chiaki and Genta, and the three of them gleefully disappear to plan some sort of mischief.

Natsumi offers to purchase food for the extra uninvited guests, and she and Kotoha head off to the store while Ryunosuke storms back into the house, presumably to rally the Kuroko behind ejecting Tsukasa from the premises.

“19th head of the Shiba clan, hmm?” Tsukasa eyes up Takeru in a way that makes Daiki want to sink into the ground. He takes a half-step too far into Takeru’s space and cocks his head, infuriatingly coy. “You’ve been busy while I was away, my lord.”

“I’m not your lord,” Takeru says, meeting Tsukasa’s heated gaze head-on. “And it’s a long story.”

Tsukasa grins. “I have all the time in the world.”

“Kaitou,” Mako says, suddenly at Daiki’s side.

“Hmm?” Daiki can’t tear his eyes away from Tsukasa and Takeru. There’s a slow motion car crash happening in his chest, and he can’t look away until it plays out, until he’s full of shrapnel and glass. He deserves this, to be torn to bits, for wanting Tsukasa’s attention so badly and trusting Tsukasa to give it to him. He should know better by now.

“I could use some help in the kitchen,” Mako says, undeterred by his ambivalence. “It’s not easy cooking for six, let alone ten.”

“I’m a terrible cook.”

“And a terrible liar.”

Daiki blinks at her. There’s a challenge in Mako’s answering smile, like she knows she has the upper hand and is daring him to win it back.

He’s never been one to back down from a dare.

*

In the kitchen, Mako has bowls strewn across every surface, their contents questionable at best, downright noxious at worst.

“What on earth were you trying to make?” Daiki asks, tying an apron around his waist and grimacing at the grey-tinted blob on the table.

Mako winces. “Cookies, I think? I was working on a few dishes at once.”

Daiki dumps the blob in the trash. “We’re starting over. Follow along.”

They toss out Mako’s concoctions, and Daiki gives her a few simple, direct tasks – whisk the eggs, measure the sugar, knead the dough – while he flits around the kitchen, mixing in fruits and spices and other ingredients to make the flavors more interesting.

He’s always enjoyed cooking, ever since he was a child. He and Junichi used to spend hours in the kitchen tasting and experimenting with different recipes – enjoying the kind of freedom Daiki didn’t yet know they were lacking. Even now, cooking feels like the best kind of treasure hunt: the same rush of discovery, the same thrill of holding something exquisite in his hands.

He can’t quite lose himself in the process, though, not with Mako’s sharp gaze following him around the kitchen. She’s too perceptive for her own good, and he itches to cause a distraction; he gets the impression that if she looks hard enough, she’ll see straight through him. He suspects she’s already seen more than he’d like.

“I don't suppose Ryunosuke was too pleased to see us.” Daiki tosses the comment casually over his shoulder while he mixes. “Though I’ll have to thank him for not attempting to kill Tsukasa on sight. We’re used to that sort of reaction, but I wasn’t in the mood for a messy cleanup.”

“A warning would be nice next time,” Mako says as she rolls out a new batch of dough. “Do you show up to a lot of places uninvited?”

“It’s my favorite way to arrive.” Daiki smirks. “And isn’t this the season for surprises?”

Mako frowns. “We’ve had enough surprises for one year.”

“Ah.” Daiki leans back against the counter and gives her his full attention. Information is its own kind of treasure, and often twice as useful. “Yes, that whole ‘19th head of the Shiba clan’ business, right? Sounds complicated.”

“I guess.”

“And I imagine it had something to do with the chilly reception we received.”

Mako sighs. “Ryunosuke doesn’t mean to be rude, but we’ve all been apart for a while. He was looking forward to spending time with us – with Takeru – and…”

“And Tsukasa doesn’t like to share.” Daiki’s smile is strained and bitter. “It’s his favorite pastime, you know? Screwing with other people’s plans.”

“Yours included?”

“Mine most of all.”

“So then why do you follow him around?”

Daiki stills. He wishes he'd kept his back turned, so he could hide the flicker of annoyance on his face while he calculates when, exactly, she got the jump on him. He should’ve never mentioned Tsukasa, never even _implied_ that Tsukasa was on his mind, but he composes himself quickly enough and smiles his most disarming smile. “Who said anything about following him? Maybe he’s following me.”

“Maybe,” Mako says, absently sprinkling more flour on her dough. “But you seemed surprised to see us. Tsukasa didn’t.”

Daiki grits his teeth. “Yes, well. Perhaps I was only surprised at Tsukasa’s agenda."

“His agenda?”

“With your _lord_.”

It’s meant to get under her skin, but Mako only laughs fondly. “If that’s something Takeru wants, I’m glad he’s getting it. He deserves some happiness.”

“He won’t find it with Tsukasa,” Daiki says, a little horrified at the lump building in his throat. He wants to rage and snarl and shout to the world that no one gets to be happy with Tsukasa, especially not if they haven’t _worked_ for it, haven’t pursued it like the most precious and fickle of treasures. “He’s not staying, you know. He’ll leave. He’ll make some pretty promises and leave without a second thought.”

“Kaitou,” Mako says. There’s genuine pity in her eyes, and Daiki despises it, wants to lash out and destroy it before it sneaks in anywhere near his heart.

“Besides,” Daiki sneers, “I think Ryunosuke might have a thing or two to say about the kind of _happiness_ Tsukasa wants with your lord.”

Mako narrows her eyes, and that seems to have done the trick. Daiki will take the small victory of managing to disarm her, even a little.

“Takeru is capable of making his own decisions,” Mako says. “And Ryunosuke wants what we all want – to see our lord, our _friend_ , happy.”

Daiki laughs. “You’re being naïve.”

“Maybe. But you understand, don’t you? Wanting to spend time with your family, and something getting in the way of that.” She touches his arm. “I know you understand.”

“Family?” Daiki scoffs, shrugging away from her. “You’re mistaken. I don’t have a family.”

“Kaitou—”

“ _No_ ,” he spits, before she can say any more. He won’t hear it. He can’t. “They’re not…” He shakes his head. “They’re not.”

“They can be. They’re here with you, aren’t they?”

“That doesn’t mean anything.”

“I think it does. I think they'd like it to mean something.”

“They don’t.” His voice hitches, and heat creeps up the back of his neck. “And neither do I. Families stay together. We tried that. I left. So did they.”

Mako stays quiet for a moment. She doesn’t touch him again, but she leans back against the counter beside him. “I used to think like that. I thought…my family, they _left_ , so how could they possibly…”

She takes a deep breath, and Daiki wonders if she’s saying this out loud for the first time.

“But some people…need to do things, for reasons you don’t understand. And maybe never will.”

“The things Tsukasa needs to do occasionally start wars.”

Mako huffs. “You don’t have to like it, or accept it. But you can choose what to build a family around. Maybe it’s less about staying together, and more about…coming back? Trying again.” She smiles at him. “I think you can still choose them, if you want. Or you can choose others. You can choose both.”

“Or neither.” Daiki allows himself to consider her words, but prevents them from taking hold just yet. There are too many variables. He needs to see, first. He needs to _know_.

“Or neither. But that sounds like a lonely way to live.”

“Well, you’re a very generous person, Shiraishi Mako,” he says, bumping her shoulder. “Far more generous than I am.”

Mako bumps him back. “It takes practice, Kaitou. You should try it sometime.”

Daiki grins, but lets her have the last word. He thinks that’s pretty generous of him.

*

Dinner, though uneventful, makes Daiki nervous.

Yusuke keeps the conversation flowing, his bright smile and buoyant laughter putting everyone at ease. The food is good (even Mako’s contributions, made surprisingly edible with Daiki’s help), the room warm and inviting, and the company not quite as insufferable as Daiki feared.

But Tsukasa is too quiet.

Sometimes that’s a blessing: Tsukasa is far less likely to find trouble when he’s not running his mouth. But there’s a wicked glint in his eyes, a cunning cat’s curl to his mouth, and Daiki has seen that look enough to know exactly what it means: the Destroyer of Worlds is plotting.

That can only ever end in chaos.

“Anyone up for a little game?” Tsukasa asks when everyone has finished eating

Half of the room shouts with enthusiastic approval, but Mako and Natsumi seem hesitant, and Takeru freezes like a dear in the headlights, averting his eyes when Tsukasa winks at him.

Ryunosuke is mere seconds away from foaming at the mouth.

“My lord,” he sputters, “shouldn’t we retire soon? We’ve all had a long day of traveling, and tomorrow’s schedule is filled with—”

“Go to bed, then,” Tsukasa says with a flippant wave of his hand. “You don’t have to play.”

Ryunosuke scowls, seethes, but stays put.

“What’s the game?” Daiki asks, knowing he’s going to regret it.

For a moment, Tsukasa turns that fiery gaze on him and holds. Daiki meets it with an equally piercing one of his own, doesn’t blink, doesn’t move, refuses to look away until Tsukasa licks his lips and produces a sprig of mistletoe from his pocket, proudly displaying it to the room.

“Tsukasa,” Natsumi says, “I don’t know if we should—”

But Genta has already leapt up and snatched the mistletoe from Tsukasa, waving it over the heads of various Shinkengers and making kissy noises as they laugh and shove him around. Daiki almost feels bad for them. They think this is going to be fun. They don’t know the only games Tsukasa plays are ones he intends to win, at any cost.

They lay out the ground rules: each player gets a turn holding the mistletoe over someone’s head. That person has to give them a kiss.

“Not necessarily on the lips,” Mako insists.

“Yes, fine, whatever you like,” Tsukasa says. “But the lips are more fun.”

“Speak for yourself,” Genta says, though he waggles the mistletoe over Ryunosuke’s head and grins. “I’ll start. Gimme a kiss, Ryu baby!”

Ryunosuke shrieks and jumps to his feet, dodging Genta’s outstretched arms and puckered lips. Genta chases him around the room until he lands a loud, sloppy smooch on Ryunosuke’s ear, laughing as Ryunosuke wipes at the side of his face with exaggerated dismay.

For a while, they play without incident. Daiki brushes a light kiss over Mako’s cheek. Natsumi pecks Genta sweetly on the nose. Even Ryunosuke presses a chaste kiss to Kotoha’s hand; she giggles and bows in response.

It’s Chiaki who changes the tone, planting a forceful, lingering kiss on Yusuke’s lips that leaves them both a little dazed when they pull back.

“Oh, I…” Yusuke laughs. “That was…”

The tips of Chiaki’s ears go red. “Ha. Yeah. Wow, that was…yeah.”

“ _Now_ we’re getting somewhere,” Tsukasa says, swiping the mistletoe from Yusuke. “And I believe it’s my turn.”

The next few moments, for Daiki, happen in slow motion.

Tsukasa slinks across the room and crouches in front of Takeru, dangling the mistletoe over his head with a teasing smile. “A kiss, my lord?”

“How many times do I have to tell you, Tsukasa?” Takeru shifts up onto his knees and reaches for the mistletoe, taking it from Tsukasa’s hand. “I’m not your lord.”

“Right,” Tsukasa says, leaning in close enough to brush his nose against Takeru’s. “Of course. Just being polite.”

“Then stop it,” Takeru says. He sets the mistletoe aside, wraps one hand around the back of Tsukasa’s neck, and kisses him.

Someone gasps. Genta and Chiaki hoot and holler. Daiki feels like he’s underwater, sound muffled and vision distorted. The spot where Ryunosuke was sitting is now empty, and he sees Yusuke following someone into the kitchen. He can sense Mako’s eyes on the back of his head.

“I think I need some air,” Daiki says to no one in particular. He’s fine. Everything’s fine. It’s just well past time for him to go.

He slips out the back of the house with every intention of jumping to another world, putting some distance between him and the ridiculous shroud of disappointment threatening to settle over him. He doesn't need this. What he needs is a hunt, the adrenaline rush of flight and pursuit. He needs to be the one who leaves, who runs until he's shed everything and everyone that can make him feel like this without his permission.

But for some reason, he’s held captive by the light glowing from inside the house, the hum of voices carrying out to him and the shadows moving along the walls. He laughs, suddenly, when he realizes he’s stuck in the very same place Tsukasa found him: watching from the outside as someone else gets his treasure, wrapped and ribboned and out of his reach.

“Kaitou?” Yusuke’s head pokes around the corner, and he smiles bright when he sees Daiki. “There you are!”

Yusuke hurries out to him, bundled up against the cold: knit hat on his head, scarf wrapped snug around his neck, hands swathed in a pair of thick, warm mittens. “You came out without your coat.”

“I don’t need it,” Daiki says, ignoring the goosebumps rippling up his arms. “I’m not staying here.”

“You’re not?” Yusuke sounds earnestly disappointed. Daiki would hate him for it, if he didn’t so thoroughly believe him. “Why?”

Daiki snorts. “Don’t play dumb, Yusuke. It doesn’t suit you.”

Yusuke frowns, then offers the coat to Daiki again. “Please put it on, at least while we talk.”

“Are we talking? Because I thought I was leaving,” Daiki says. He puts the coat on anyway.

“Where are you going?”

“Does it matter? I can go anywhere I want. I don’t have to be here.”

“I know you don’t.” Yusuke smiles a fraction of the megawatt grin that makes Tsukasa swoon; it’s still a balm to Daiki’s splintered heart. “But we’d like you to stay.”

“We?” Daiki raises an eyebrow and motions to the empty courtyard.

“Me. Natsumi. Tsukasa. We want you here with us.”

Daiki manages a shaky laugh. “I’m certain Tsukasa doesn’t give a damn what I do.”

“That’s not true.” Yusuke reaches out and takes one of Daiki’s hands between his own, chafing it gently. “He came to get you, didn’t he?”

“I wish he wouldn’t have.”

“I’m glad he did.”

Daiki shakes his head. “You’re hopeless, Yusuke.”

Yusuke lifts Daiki’s hand and presses a kiss to his palm. “Come on. Genta brought us a little tree for our room. Let’s go warm up.”

When Yusuke tugs on his hand, Daiki digs in his heels. “Don’t you have a certain Shinkenger to entertain?”

"Kaitou," Yusuke says, part admonishment and part reassurance. "It was just a game." 

_It's always just a game_ , Daiki thinks. But he lets Yusuke drag him back into the house, through the hallways and into the guest room were Natsumi is waiting, wrapped in a blanket and holding a mug of tea.

“Daiki,” she says, her smile as warm as the room, the lights from the tree bathing her face in soft pinks and greens. She reaches out to him. “Come sit.”

“I’ll get him a blanket, he’s freezing,” Yusuke says.

“I’m not freezing. I like the cold,” Daiki says, but soon finds himself sitting cross-legged on the floor, wrapped in a fleece blanket while Yusuke rubs at his arms and Natsumi shoves her mug of tea into his hands.

“What are you doing?” he says. “I don’t need any of this.”

“Tough,” Yusuke says. He slips off his hat and shakes his hair out, then takes his scarf and wraps it around Daiki’s neck.

“I’m going to die of a heat stroke,” Daiki says.

“Drink your tea,” Natsumi says.

He grumbles and takes a sip of the tea, which is minty and strong and not half-bad.

“Good?” Yusuke asks.

“Passable,” Daiki says.

Yusuke beams at him. It’s hard not to smile back.

*

When Daiki opens his eyes, he notices three things.

His head is pillowed in Natsumi’s lap, her fingers resting in his hair where she’d been stroking it before she fell asleep.

Yusuke is curled up beside him, an arm slung across his stomach, snoring into his shoulder.

And Tsukasa is sitting on the futon, chin propped in his hand, watching them.

“You’re being weird, Tsukasa,” Daiki says, his voice rough with sleep and pitched low so as not to wake the others.

“You didn’t finish the game,” Tsukasa says defiantly, at full volume.

“Be quiet.” Daiki scoots out from underneath Yusuke. He’s annoyed at Tsukasa for interrupting his peace, dragging him from his comfortable cocoon, but he motions to the hallway anyway, forever incapable of leaving well enough alone. “Outside if you want to talk.”

He follows Tsukasa out into the main room, dimly lit by the bulbs on the Christmas tree. Tsukasa sulks around, fiddles with an ornament, his fingers dancing over its red surface.

“Now what was it you were complaining about?” Daiki asks, crossing his arms over his chest.

“You didn’t finish the game,” Tsukasa says.

“It wasn’t very much fun.” Daiki’s feeling bolder now, due in part to Yusuke’s sincerity and Natsumi’s care, so freely given. He doesn’t have to bend to Tsukasa’s every whim, hand over his heart on a silver platter for Tsukasa to play with. He can go back to bed, and someone will be waiting there for him.

“You’re just impatient,” Tsukasa says. “We hadn’t gotten to the fun part yet.”

“You certainly seemed to be enjoying yourself.”

The corner of Tsukasa’s mouth twitches. “So you _were_ jealous.”

Daiki sighs. He could deny it, but that would only add fuel to Tsukasa’s fire, inviting more teasing, more prodding. He doesn't need to confirm or deny his feelings to Tsukasa, to anyone. “Are we done here? I'm tired.”

Tsukasa opens his hand and offers Daiki the sprig of mistletoe. “Too tired for another round?”

Daiki wants to slap the mistletoe out of his hand. Instead, he shakes his head and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Go to bed, Tsukasa.”

He turns to leave, but Tsukasa grabs his wrist to stop him.

Daiki yanks his arm away, his voice a low warning. “Let go of me.”

“Stay here.”

“I don’t take orders from you,” he hisses, letting some of his frustration boil over. It’s what Tsukasa deserves, for the way he’s been toying with Daiki. “ _You_ don’t get to tell me where I can and cannot go. Only I decide that.”

“Fine, okay, calm down.” Tsukasa backs away, hands up in a gesture of surrender. “Will you at least listen to me first?”

“Do you have something interesting to say?”

“Could you try being a _little_ less infuriating before I change my mind about this?” He squats down and reaches underneath the tree, retrieving a small roll of parchment, aged and weathered by time and use, tied around the middle with a red ribbon. He stands and holds it out to Daiki. “Here.”

Daiki eyes it suspiciously. “What is it?”

“Don’t look at me like that. I promise it won’t explode.”

He takes it gingerly from Tsukasa’s hand and unrolls the paper to reveal a map, hand-drawn and fraying at the edges. The border lines are clean and meticulous, the cartographer’s signature gracing the bottom right-hand corner. He can’t help it – his curiosity is piqued. “A map?”

“A very old, very rare, and _very_ valuable map, from Lord Shiba’s private collection.”

Daiki raises an eyebrow. “He gave this to you?”

Tsukasa smiles. “Not exactly.”

“You stole it for me.” A grin creeps over Daiki's face. His heartbeat quickens – both for the prospect of new treasure, and for the satisfied way Tsukasa is looking at him now. “You brought me here for this.”

“Last time you left this world empty-handed. I thought you might like to rectify that, while I took care of some unfinished business.”

Daiki runs his fingers reverently along the edges of the map. “And did you finish it? Or is this your world now? Will you swear fealty to the 19th head of the Shiba clan, be at his beck and call?”

Tsukasa throws his head back and laughs. “Of course not. Ryunosuke would have me arrested.”

“You don’t want to stay?”

“No. And Takeru wouldn’t want me to. This isn’t my world, Kaitou, you know that.”

Daiki does, but it’s nice to hear that Tsukasa does, too. “Then what _do_ you want?” he asks, braver still, while he has the chance to be.

“Hmmm.” Tsukasa takes a step forward and brushes the backs of his fingers across Daiki’s cheekbone. “Right now I want to kiss you.”

Daiki’s stomach does a slow, dizzying tumble, like he’s been dropped from one world into another without warning. Still, he keeps his voice admirably steady when he says, barely above a whisper, “You’ve had your kiss tonight.”

“I can’t have another?”

“Don’t be greedy, Tsukasa,” Daiki says, though he’s feeling a little greedy himself, with Mako’s words finally starting to find purchase. He can choose to want this or not. He can choose to stay or go. He can choose to grab Tsukasa by the front of the shirt and kiss him senseless, shove him up against a wall, drag him out of this world and into another where they can be alone, where Tsukasa can be his and only his. He can choose to return to the safety of the guest room, back into the arms of Yusuke and Natsumi.

He can choose them, or he can choose Tsukasa. He can choose neither.

He can choose both.

Daiki smiles and takes Tsukasa’s hand, leads him silently back to the bedroom where Yusuke and Natsumi are now curled together on the futon, fast asleep. He picks up the blanket off the floor and drapes it over them, moves the cooling mug of tea to the bedside table, and then, he kisses Tsukasa, places a hand on either side of his face and moves their lips softly together.

Tsukasa hesitates, hands hovering over Daiki’s arms, before he settles them on Daiki’s hips and kisses back. It’s a lazy kiss, playful and exploratory. They nip and tease and take long moments to breathe together, Daiki’s clever fingers tracing Tsukasa’s face and Tsukasa’s hands roving over Daiki’s back. It’s gentle, unhurried, and Daiki decides when it’s over.

“Enough for now,” he says, pulling away so he can watch Tsukasa try and follow. It's thrilling, the thought of Tsukasa having to pursue him, as though _he's_ the treasure worth chasing.

Of course Tsukasa kisses him once more, just to be stubborn.

They climb into bed together, Tsukasa curled up behind Natsumi and Daiki nuzzling into Yusuke’s neck.

“Goodnight, Kaitou,” Tsukasa says.

“Merry Christmas, Tsukasa,” Daiki says.

Yusuke sighs, the most contented sound Daiki thinks he’s ever heard, and laces their fingers together. “Sleep tight.”

A smile flutters across Natsumi’s lips as she tugs Tsukasa’s arm tighter around her. “Sweet dreams.”

Daiki stays awake as long as he can, watching the rise and fall of Natsumi’s chest and relaxing into Yusuke’s warmth. When he finally starts to drift off, he feels a hand toying with his hair, strands carded softly between slender fingers.

He knows he'll run again. There’s too much treasure in the universe, and he is, for better or worse, and above all, still a thief. And he knows Tsukasa will never stop searching for his tender spots, pressing on them like bruises.

But it’s good to know that he can come back and have moments like these, with people he’s chosen. People who have chosen him.

It’s good to dream about the worlds they might visit together.


End file.
